Chapter 6: Drawing the Line

I pulled out the photos I took in the next state on my phone.

Swiped through each one, making sure the date and location were clear. Evidence, plain as day.

"I was in the next state at the time. Even if I came back, it would have taken time—I couldn't have made it."

My voice was flat, steady. Let them chew on that.

"Then why didn't you buy a plane ticket? At a time like this, what's a little money?" my dad demanded.

He always thought cash fixed everything. I met his gaze, unflinching.

My face turned cold. "There's only one flight from there to here each day, and it's at night."

I kept my tone even, but the chill in my words was unmistakable.

"What, do you think I have the money to charter a plane back?"

I let the silence stretch, daring anyone to argue.

My parents' faces froze.

The old certainty in their eyes flickered, replaced by something like doubt.

My uncle and aunt's sobbing finally stopped as well.

Even Aunt Linda went quiet, her gaze fixed on the floor.

When the doctor came to check, he said the surgery had been very successful.

He smiled, clipboard in hand, reassuring everyone that Tyler was stable. The nurses nodded, busy and efficient.

After staying for a while and recovering well, he could be discharged.

The discharge papers rustled as the nurse flipped through them. The hospital food would soon be a memory.

But my uncle and aunt were worried about the medical bills.

They huddled in the corner, whispering, voices tight with worry. The numbers were more terrifying than any diagnosis.

They discussed it and decided to leave the hospital two or three days early.

Aunt Linda said, “Better to rest at home, anyway.” Uncle Mike nodded, eyes darting to the bills on the nightstand.

But after discharge, where to live became a problem.

No one wanted to say it, but the tension in the room was thick as syrup. Tyler stared at the ceiling, refusing to meet anyone’s eye.

They had no house in the city, and my cousin refused to go back to the small town.

He muttered something about needing good rehab, but everyone knew he was just embarrassed to face the neighbors.

So, everyone in the room looked at me.

Their eyes landed on me in perfect unison, like I was the answer to an unspoken prayer.

I could feel their eyes on me, waiting for me to cave. But this time, I wasn’t their safety net.

I put on a confused face. "What is it?"

I widened my eyes, playing dumb. Let them spell it out for once.

My uncle looked at my dad.

Dad fidgeted, glancing at the floor.

My dad opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

He swallowed his words, letting the silence hang.

My uncle then looked at my aunt.

She cleared her throat, fidgeting with her purse strap.

My aunt hesitated, then looked at me.

Her voice was small, almost hopeful.

"Um, Jason, didn't you, uh, buy a new apartment?"

She twisted her wedding ring nervously, not meeting my eye.

"Otherwise, let your cousin stay at your place for now?"

Her tone was coaxing, like she was offering me a gift instead of a burden.

"Don't worry, he won't stay long."

The lie hung in the air, obvious to everyone.

"After your uncle and I go back and arrange things at home, we'll come right over."

She tried to sound reassuring, but I could see the relief in her face at the thought of leaving Tyler behind.

Although my parents didn't say anything, they both looked at me with approval.

My mom gave a little nod, as if to say, “See? This is what family does.”

As if they already knew I would agree, they turned to my cousin and said, "Tyler, stay at Jason's place for now. With Jason taking care of you, we can rest assured."

My dad put a firm hand on Tyler’s shoulder, squeezing like it was all settled.

My mom smiled and said, "Yes, Jason's girlfriend is at home too. From now on, let her cook nourishing soup for you every day. Let Tyler take a month's leave first, and we'll talk about everything after you recover."

The image of my girlfriend, apron on, stirring chicken noodle soup for Tyler, flashed through my mind. I almost laughed.

"Yes, family should help each other," my uncle said with satisfaction.

He leaned back, satisfied, as if the whole mess had finally been solved. I folded my arms, met every stare, and waited. Let’s see who blinks first. This time, I’m not playing the martyr.